Exchanging Body Heat In The Passenger Seat

Hey there! This is based off of a scene from the Fight Club book where Jack and Tyler run away and spend the night in a car. I love to sexualize everything because it's fun, so I wrote this as a sort of "hidden scene," or something that possibly could have happened after the actual scene ended.

Title is from "Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off" by Panic! At The Disco :)

LEAVE COMMENTS, I LOVE READING THEM!

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The condensation on the car window in front of me gets smeared from my trembling hands as I rush to find something to hold onto. When you're sitting on Tyler Durden's dick and everything is hot and sweaty and in motion and so real, you don't know what to do with yourself. Every nerve in your body is alive and electrified, and staying still is damn near impossible. So I press my fingers against the glass and drag them down, watching eight clear streaks appear in their wake. Tyler fucks up into me as I drop down, his grip on my hips keeping me right where he wants me. I'm soon going to come on the vinyl backseat of this car, and it will all be Tyler's fault.

How this ended up happening, well... there's a lot that's full of used cars that sell for incredibly cheap prices. At night, no one is around, and the employees leave the car doors unlocked. After Marla learned that Tyler had used her mother's fat for Paper Street Soap Company products, I knew that Tyler and I had to disappear. At least for the night. We brought Chinese food and cans of beer to this used car lot and searched for a suitable safe haven.

We settled on a 1968 Impala. This is our home for the night, our bed for the next few hours. We chose it because the front and back seats are long and wide enough to sleep comfortably on. We also chose it because Marla is likely on a rampage in my and Tyler's house, taking her anger out on our home after we decided to use her mother for soap. I didn't mean for this to happen, but it happened, so here we are, sitting in the long front seat of the Impala, our hideout.

We've been talking for hours, eating our food and drinking the beer we brought along. Tyler is to the left of me, sitting in front of the steering wheel. The car is not running, so it's quiet and a bit chilly, but we fill the atmosphere with words and thoughts. I'm immersed in our talking, our sharing of ideas and opinions and stories. Having long conversations with Tyler is one of my favorite things in the world. I realize more and more every time that his mind is unlike any other that I've known. The way he thinks is simply fascinating.

"Look outside," Tyler says. I notice that it's difficult since every window of our car is coated in condensation, blurring the view of the parking lot.

"I can't," I tell him.

"Exactly." Tyler speaks as if he's explaining the obvious answer to an existential question. Like he's got it all figured out. I'm not sure if I follow.

"What?"

"There's a whole world out there, but we can't see it. And they can't see us," he says, shuffling closer to me and looking me right in the eyes. "Why should anything outside this car exist if we don't want it to?" He traces his index finger down the side of my face, down my neck. "And why should anything inside this car exist if the world doesn't see or care?"

I pause for a second, letting my head wrap around what Tyler just said. He's got a point.

"Anyway," Tyler continues, backing away. "I'm going to get some sleep." He swallows the remainder of beer in his can and tosses it on the car floor with our bag of Chinese takeout. He climbs into the backseat and settles down on it, lying on his back. I'm left in the front seat alone, so I stretch out and lie down to match Tyler.